


Exploring Your Deep Roads

by ao3afterdark



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: "is that a challenge", F/M, and yes yes i know, but no one ever said HOW she got tainted did they, check and mate, i'll be honest i wrote this purely because the prompt seemed TOO outlandish and i was like, she'll probs def get tainted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao3afterdark/pseuds/ao3afterdark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the course of the expedition, Bethany Hawke falls prey to darkspawn in ways no one had ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploring Your Deep Roads

Bethany knew it had been barely more than four hours since the latest leg of their march had begun, but it seemed days since lunch, longer since she had been able to think without the ceaseless cloud of despair and anxiety that the Deep Roads seemed to foster. She could have cried with relief when the halt for the day was finally called, and sagged, reaching up to scrub a hand across her face. She hadn't walked this far since-

But no. She'd promised herself not to think on other days, better days, no matter that it made her belly twist until it near throttled her, made her shudder for breath behind the safety of her hand, near tears. Even now, more than a year after his death, Bethany could barely breathe some days, without him. His absence now stung sorely. He would have hated the Deep Roads, she knew, but there were things here that would have drawn out that smile she so loved, she knew, and tipped her head to smile at her sister when she came close and slung her arm low across Bethany's waist to trace meaningless circles where her mail ended and her leggings began.

"Don't worry," her sister said. “Just a few more weeks and then we'll be back in familiar territory, Varric says. And hey, think about how you'll look, dripping with jewels and feathers."

"Absolutely ridiculous?" But she was laughing, leaning gratefully into her sister's warmth, lips curling sleepily at what could be nothing but a reminder of other days, better days, and lifted her head to kiss her sister's cheek. “That was never me, and you know that. I’ll be content with a hot bath and something soft to sink down on.”

“Oh?” Came Isabela’s laugh, full and throaty and tinged with a fond amusement that made Bethany’s tawny cheeks darken still further, though she didn’t really understand, not until the pirate helpfully gave a visual demonstration with her hands that made Bethany’s hands creep back up to cover her eyes on a giggle. Even as she did, something, some change, passed over the company in a shivering wave. Just like that, the atmosphere had changed. Grew quiet, still, charged with an electricity not on her own making.

When she drew her hands down the light had changed, the flames in the torches burning a sickly green that made her brows knit in confusion. She parted her lips, started to ask a question. That was when the noises began. Wild shrieks and moans that set her skin pebbling with goosebumps and threw her back a year and more, to the desolate fields outside Lothering and a beloved face that had grown to kiss the landscape. Bethany started to give voice to a question, but it was too late, battle had already begun on the other side of camp, quick and desperate and dirty, and she could do nothing but throw herself into the thick of it.

She was swallowed up at once.

Bethany usually tried to stay on the edge of battle, where she was safe and her sister and their friends could fend off attacks, but the battle swirled about them in waves, and it was impossible to tell in the dim lighting where one wave ended and another began. They were too many, overwhelming, driving her away from the others, and Bethany felt wild terror start to claw its way up her throat. She pushed it back as best she could, but was unable to help the tremble in her hands and voice as she cried out the words to a spell, any spell, so long as it kept the darkspawn at a distance.

 

 

 

Her feet swept long, uneven trails in dirt and muck as she threw spell after spell. Brought her hand up in a clenched fist that saw a knot of darkspawn come crashing together, heads banging and limbs flopping, before they followed the path of her hand and rose swiftly up and up and up to crash against the ceiling, and still there were more and more and more. It felt almost inevitable that claws seized her arm, and still she cried out in fear and anger, intermingled, and lashed out with her staff, but she was exhausted after the march, and for every one darkspawn she put down another four took its place. It was inevitable, too, that her attacks gradually started to slow. Her staff felt like it weighed fifty pounds, and dragged through the air like it had been replaced with water.

When next she was grabbed, she was out of mana and out of hope yet still she struggled, screaming obscenities she hadn’t even realized she knew. Across the battlefield, her sister’s voice raised as she called out something indecipherable over the clash and roars, but the rage in it was clear. Bethany saw the silver ribbon of her sister’s sword cut through the air, and then everything became a confusion of movement and pressure, pressure all over as she was yanked and swept through the crowd of darkspawn with a swiftness that took her breath away, almost as fast as her gravity spells. She struggled to give voice to a scream, but nothing came out but a helpless, hopeless cry that died on her lips when gnarled, unbelievably massive hands folded around her.

Bethany knew then that she was going to die. She was going to die, and no one would ever find her, just like Carver. At last she found her voice and let out a strangled, breathless cry, but it was quickly lost, torn away by the rushing charge of the ogre down the twisting cavernous spaces, too fast for her take make any sense of or to keep track of, taking her further and further away from help with every step.

_People like us, we’re never defenseless,_ came a voice she barely remembered anymore, half thought had become mixed with others until it was a shadow of what her father’s true voice had been, and she muffled a despairing laugh against her hand. She didn’t think Malcolm Hawke had ever been in a situation like this. Or maybe he had. She barely remembered him, she’d been so young when he died, but his stories had long outlived the man. But. perhaps he had. if so, she wished she’d paid more attention, even if it’d been sanitized for children. Maybe what had worked for him would- but no. it wouldn’t. Her father had been a far better mage than she, he’d-

Bethany was torn out of her train of thought by the ogre slowing to a stop. They were here, wherever here was, wherever the ogre’s twisted brain had decided that it wanted to take her, and- Bethany swallowed, hard, gasping for breath through her nose as the ogre dropped her, none too gently, upon the floor of the cavern. She scrambled at once to put her back up against the walls, something, anything, but fetched up against a hurlock she hadn’t even seen in the low light. Bethany danced away, or tried to, but it was only to bump into a genlock, who started to rip at her chainmail, tearing it loose from its buckles.

Her staff lost during the scramble, her spells gone, Bethany resorted to the last thing she could and threw a punch, the way Carver had shown her, thumb tucked beneath her knuckles and not inside, and succeeded in knocking the genlock back. She had time for one, single short burst of exultation and then a familiar heavy chuckle ghosted across her back as clawed hands settled around her hips, yanking her back.

 

 

 

She didn’t understand what it was about at first, not until she felt its hardness prodding at her through her thin cotton leggings. Bethany hissed out a breath and threw back her elbow. She felt it connect, but had no sooner started to twist, to turn, pushing away from it, then she was pulled back. A clawed hand raked down her front, tearing her blouse. Her breasts spilled out, swaying with the motion as the hurlock’s hand closed about her middle and pulled her back against it. More hands were pawing at her, her clothes, ripping and tearing fabric and leaving long scratches on her skin that stung and bled. Gripped her exposed breasts and twisted her nipples cruelty, made her cry out and turn her face away.

Her hand was caught when she tried to fist it again and yanked, sending her tumbling down on her hands and knees. She had just enough time to push herself up onto her elbows when her hip was gripped up in a scaled hand, the other fisted tight in her hair, and pulled her back onto its erection.

She was dry, too dry for penetration. The thick head of the hurlock's cock barely breached her cunt before it came up short. A grunt, not displeased, and the hurlock pulled his, its, hips back and slammed them in, forcing its way into her. Bethany threw her head back. No one was around to hear her but she screamed anyway, earning her another chuckle, wordless and thick with things she didn't want to think about, didn't want to think, and then it was moving, pulling back until just the head was inside, then pulling her back by the hair hard enough she thought she felt it tear, impaling her on its length.

Bethany started to sob, scrabbling at the stone, trying to get away even now. Unbidden, the thought that her first time was with a darkspawn made her breath hitch, made her bend her head down to brace on her forearms as she let out a broken noise. "Please," she wept, "please please please." Please don't let this be real. Let it be a dream, a nightmare, please. But it wasn't. it wasn't, and there was nothing and no one around to hear her but the very creatures whose jagged smiles winked in the low light of dirty torches, creatures who continued to grip and giggle and thrust, again and again and again.

Darkspawn didn't talk, but she could almost imagine the garbled snarling behind and above her to be words as it bore down, filling the air with the slap of skin against skin at its balls slapped against her ass as it stretched and filled her. It was thick, very thick, and she gulped for air every time it bottomed out, and all the while, something was changing, deep in her belly.

She didn't have time to think about it before the hurlock bent and hauled her upright, flush against its chest as a ghoul stepped in, witchlight eyes smearing white across the backs of her eyelids. Bethany cringed from its touch, its skin long gone mottled and puckered from the blight, as it grabbed the swell of her hip and yanked, pushing its way inside her, alongside the hurlock. Bethany threw her head back and tried to scream, but couldn’t draw breath enough to cry out, pain and shock and horror intermingling. She was stiff and trembling between them as they started to move together, an uneven rhythm that eked small cries out of her, helpless, hopeless noises that were pulled out of her with every movement of their cocks against her, within her.

 

 

 

That spark of heat started to grow and build low in her belly. She didn’t understand it, didn’t want it, but it was there all the same. Bethany couldn't help the moan that was dragged, all unwilling, from between the tight press of her lips, no more than she could help the restless arch of her hips, impaling herself still further on their cocks. That laughter came again, right by her ear, as she was yanked down, again and again, a relentless, merciless rhythm that made her writhe against them.

She bucked her hips to meet each thrust, her legs falling open of their own accord. No sooner than they had then they seized and hauled up around the waist of the darkspawn before her. The changed angle made her scream, not in fear or hatred but in pleasure, her head falling back to loll against the hurlock' chest.

The ghoul started to shudder against her, hips giving quick jerks that made her cry out and buck her own to meet every thrust. It growled and tightened its grip, and then it hauled her down until she was fully seated on its cock and held her in place as it started to come. Warmth flooded inside her as it spurted deep inside her, pulling out just in time to shoot thick, milky streams across her cunt.

No sooner had the ghoul pulled away than it was replaced with another, what looked like what had used to be a grey warden. A blue tabard still clung to its chest, but it was otherwise naked, gurgling an incoherent, bubbling cry as is it approached her, sideways and at angles. Cracked and broken hands slid on the mess on her hips before finding purchase. Its thick cock nudged at her swollen folds, pushing against her, but didn’t quite go in, rubbing instead at a spot that made her arch with a small cry. Her lips work around the shape of a question, but it was driven away by the next buck of its, her, hips, bringing the tip of its cock against that same spot again and then again. Her every breath became a tight, whimpering thing that drew grunts of approval, clawed hands resettling on her hips to push and pull at her until she couldn’t keep still, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t seem to do anything but push and strain against and towards the darkspawn, seeking that friction, that pressure.

Her breath whined in her throat, a raggedy scrap of what it had been, as was she. It was becoming harder to remember why she hadn’t wanted this, when the whole world had narrowed down to desperation and need.

The electric thrills racing up and down her spine had spread slow could of warmth that pulsed in time to the rhythm of the darkspawn cocks as they entered her again and again. They made obscene, awful noises as they moved, wet, and slick spattered her every time they pulled out, only to thrust home again. Her thighs were soaked with cum and her own juices, and she shuddered to think of it, arched and rubbed her breasts against the chest of the darkspawn before her.

They were starting to blur together, a long line that never stopped, never ended. The folds of her cunt were swollen and oversensitive, and she wailed when the next darkspawn plunged inside her, bowing to bury her face against its chest. All she wanted was for this to end, for it to go on forever.

The last thing she saw before the torchlight winked out was the silver flash of a falling ribbon.


End file.
